


Smoke Veils

by ghostchibi



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Community: falloutkinkmeme, Danse in thigh-highs and panties oh my, M/M, Panties, Praise Kink, Stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostchibi/pseuds/ghostchibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What on earth is Danse doing in Nick's chair? And... where are his pants?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke Veils

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from the Fallout Kink Meme [here](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?view=17823687#t17823687).
> 
> An excellent prompt on the kmeme about Danse in stockings popped up, and I could not pass up the opportunity for a) my favorite dude in pretty clothes and b) more Nick/Danse content so, hey, two birds with one stone.

Nick gets back to the office rather late; he's apologetic when Ellie chides him for worrying her, and he makes a mental note that he's going to have to make it up for her somehow. It wasn't supposed to be such a difficult case, and he was supposed to be back hours ago, but things don't always go as planned.  
  
Ellie mentions that Danse is waiting for him in his room. Yet another person Nick has worried, apparently. He thanks her as she leaves for the night, and Nick makes haste to make sure Danse isn't worried sick about him.  
  
"Danse?" Nick says as he pushes open the door. "I hope you weren't waiting too long, I'm sorr-"  
  
And then he freezes. Danse's head tilts up at the sound of the door opening, watching Nick standing at the doorway with a cigarette in his mouth. Several questions run through Nick's head as he stares. Firstly, what is Danse doing in his chair, with his feet propped up on the desk? Secondly, why is Danse wearing a white collared shirt with a lovely tie, but no pants?  
  
And thirdly, are those _stockings and panties?_  
  
The chair scrapes across the ground as Danse pushes it back to stand up. Yes, those are indeed stockings and panties. Black, all of it edged with lace, detailing in white needlework at the top of the stockings covering thick thighs. That tie is new too, dark blue, looks soft to the touch. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stark white in contrast to the fabric of the lingerie.  
  
"You were out for quite a while," Danse says, walking over to Nick and stopping in front of him, close enough to just barely bump his nose against Nick's. "I assume that your case went well?"  
  
"Danse, holy hell," is not what Nick means to say, but that's what comes out of his mouth anyway. Danse's lips curl into a smile, and he turns his head away to blow out a stream of smoke, cigarette held between his fingers.  
  
"I'm going to assume that's a 'yes,' Nick." Danse saunters back to the desk to snuff out the cigarette. He goes still when Nick suddenly has his arms around Danse's waist, but the smile on his face gives everything away.  
  
"You strut like a peacock, showing off like this," Nick murmurs into his ear, one hand sliding down to squeeze Danse's ass. It earns Nick a barely-audible inhale of air. "What a pretty picture you are, Danse. But you know that, don't you? Wouldn't be walking like that if you didn't."  
  
Danse doesn't actually know what a peacock is. But he assumes it's something that struts, and looks pretty. Maybe later he'll ask Nick exactly what one is. But for now, Danse chuckles and presses back against Nick, one hand sliding around and under his coat to slip into Nick's back pocket.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," he replies, eyes fluttering shut when Nick kisses the spot right under his ear. The metal frame hand slides up to play with the top button on Danse's shirt.  
  
"I think you're a smart man, Danse, and I think you know exactly what I mean." The first button slips free, and then the next, and then the next. Slowly, Nick undoes each button, until the shirt is hanging open and he's free to roam his hands across Danse's chest and belly. He's warm, Nick thinks as his fingers trail across skin. He can feel the minute dips where the scars are, faded little lines (and some a bit bigger) from old battles. Danse wears those with pride, never mind what the source was. Every scar was a fight he'd survived. That was something he could be proud of, when there was so little he felt like he could be proud of.  
  
And Nick is proud of him for that.  
  
"I don't know where you got these," Nick says, cupping Danse through the panties. That elicits a deep groan from him, and Nick can feel his cock swell. "But remind me to thank whatever or whoever was responsible."  
  
"Will do."  
  
Nick reaches up with his free hand to undo the tie, letting it hang around Danse's neck for now. He has ideas as to what he might do with it, but not right now.

"You have gorgeous thighs, you know," Nick continues, pulling back the collar of Danse's shirt to kiss his shoulder.  
  
"Do I?" Danse asks with a grin, but his voice falters a bit when Nick's hand goes back to his cock, a soft moan and a barely noticeable buck of his hips in reaction when Nick squeezes.  
  
"You do." Nick is tugging him toward the bed. And then he's on the bed, back against the mattress, looking up at bright yellow optics staring down at him. Nick's hands are planted on either side of his head, an appreciative smile on his face as he looks Danse over from head to toe. "Damn gorgeous."  
  
Danse just smiles back in response, and relaxes into Nick's touch when he leans in for a kiss. It's different from kissing a human. Danse doesn't care, really, because it's Nick, and he loves Nick.  
  
While Danse is preoccupied, Nick slides the tie out of the collar of Danse's shirt and places it off to the side. He clasps his hands with Danse's, pulling them both above the man's head, and holds them there with one hand while the other blindly retrieves the tie. Danse raises an eyebrow at him when Nick pulls back so that he can properly see the knot he's tying, but offers no resistance. It's not tight, and if he really wanted to he could twist his wrists around enough to wiggle out of the loops. But his hands are still, wrists crossed, and they remain above his head when Nick's hand lets go.  
  
"Gorgeous," Nick says again, kissing Danse's neck. He tilts his head to the side to give Nick more space, sighing contentedly, and rolls his hips when Nick presses his knee up between Danse's thighs. It isn't enough though, and soon Danse is making soft noises in the back of his throat, grinding against Nick for more friction.  
  
"Nick," he murmurs, eyes closed. "Nick, please."  
  
Nick can't say no to him. Danse is leaking onto his belly, his grinding against Nick's leg causing the waistband of the panties to drag down and freeing the tip of his cock. Open shirt, hands tied up, stocking-clad legs open, all for Nick. All for him.  
  
God, what a sight.  
  
Palming Danse one more time through his underwear, Nick scoots down to pull them off. They end up bunched around Danse's ankle, their owner too impatient to wait, and Nick can't really blame him. When he pulls back to retrieve the oil he knows is in the pack dropped by his desk, Danse practically whines until Nick returns to his spot between Danse's legs.  
  
"You need to be more patient," Nick chides, although there's no firmness behind his words. He slicks three fingers, and watches Danse's face as he slowly presses a fingertip against his entrance. "Relax, love."  
  
Danse moans, twisting his wrists around so that he can grab at the sheets as Nick eases one finger into him. It takes a great deal of self-control to stay still, but he's rewarded for his patience with a kiss to his knee and a second finger added, stretching him open.  
  
"Nick," he gasps. It's followed by a string of soft "ohs" and Nick can't help the flood of affection he gets from seeing Danse like this. Breathless and desperate and eager, all for him. Nick lets Danse rock back against his fingers, his free hand moving from Danse's hip to drag lightly against his stomach.  
  
"Beautiful. You're a damn nice sight. Look at you, so good."  
  
The shiver that goes through Danse's body at that makes Nick smile. He decides that he'll indulge Danse just a little, and leans down to lick a stripe up the underside of Danse's cock as he presses a third finger against his entrance. Danse whines and thrusts his hips up, but Nick pulls away and chuckles at the expression he gets in response.

Danse starts to buck against his fingers as the third one slides in, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. And then Nick curls his fingers, and watches as Danse's back arches off of the bed accompanied by a strangled whine.  
  
"Nick!"  
  
Nick wonders if he can get Danse off like this, not even touching him anywhere else. His metal hand presses lightly against the junction of hip, thigh, and groin, leaving behind reddened marks where the fingertips dug in. That gets a reaction too, a jerk of Danse's hips up chasing Nick's hand as it pulls away.  
  
Danse is practically begging now, soft pleas tumbling from his mouth. The tip of his tongue slides out to wet his bottom lip, and it immediately pulls back when he bites down on his lip as Nick presses his fingers in deeper, a light but steady pressure against his prostate. Danse's leg hooks around Nick, pulls him closer, silently begging Nick for more as his words are failing him.  
  
"Do you like that?" An attempt at responding is cut off by a sharp inhale as Nick pushes deeper. "Does that feel good?"  
  
" _Yes,_ " Danse groans, red-faced and desperate, leaking onto his stomach. He's close to his limit, Nick can tell.  
  
"You've done so well. Just perfect. What do you want me to do, handsome?"  
  
"I want to kiss you," Danse whines. "Nick, please."  
  
That is actually not the answer Nick is expecting. But it's a very welcome request, and so Nick leans over Danse, bracing himself with his free hand, and leans down to kiss him. Immediately Danse brings his arms down to loop around Nick's neck, his wrists still bound with the tie. Nick pulls his fingers out, swallowing down the whimper from Danse as they kiss, and instead wraps his hand around Danse's cock.  
  
Danse bucks up into his hand with a muffled moan, pulling Nick closer against him. Their kiss is messy, Danse's tongue uncoordinated from his desperation, and Nick finds it oh-so-very endearing to know that he's the one able to make Danse come apart like this, make him sigh and moan and _want_ so much.  
  
When he comes, he lets out a sharp gasp and a shaky moan, his voice a little bit strained. His whole body tightens around Nick, arms bracketing him in and legs tangling around Nick's own as Nick strokes him through his orgasm. Danse spills onto his stomach, cock twitching in Nick's hand, and Nick peppers his neck with kisses until his breathing evens out.  
  
"So good," Nick murmurs against sweat-soaked skin. "You are so perfect, Danse."  
  
Danse doesn't say anything, just gets one hand loose from the tie and tugs Nick up for another kiss. When they pull apart they smile at each other silently for a moment, Danse almost looking a little bit drunk, until his fingers curl into the fabric of Nick's coat at his shoulder and he blinks.  
  
"...you're still in your clothes."  
  
"So are you, for certain definitions of 'in your clothes,'" Nick points out, tugging at the open front of Danse's shirt to prove his point. Although, to be fair, Danse is wearing quite a bit less than Nick is at the moment.  
  
Danse shakes his head and lets out a snort of laughter.  
  
"Don't try to outsmart me, Detective," he says. "An open shirt and no pants hardly qualifies as clothed."  
  
"You said 'in your clothes,' not 'clothed.' And you have stockings, too."  
  
"And now you're being pedantic."  
  
"Hush."  
  
Nick leans down and kisses Danse again, and that's as far as that conversation goes.  
  
"So, uh, do you mind telling me where you got these?"  
  
Nick taps the lace on the stockings, mindful not to let the delicate material catch on his finger. There's a mischievous twinkle in Danse's eyes as he drags his pinched finger and thumb across his lips in a mimicry of zipping his mouth closed, and smiles.


End file.
